rcus and leaped aboard his raft, whereupon Viggo's raft
drifted downward and vanished in a flash in the yellow torrent.

At that very instant Marcus's strength gave out; he relaxed his grip on
the branch, which slid out of his hand, and they would inevitably have
darted over the brink of the cataract if Viggo had not, with great
adroitness, snatched the rope from the branch of the half-submerged
tree.

A wild shout, half a cheer, half a cry of relief, went up from the
banks, as the raft with the three lads was slowly hauled toward the
shore by the lumbermen who had thrown the rope.

Halvor Reitan was the first to step ashore. But no joyous welcome
greeted him from those whose sympathies had, a little while ago, been
all on his side. He hung around uneasily for some minutes, feeling
perhaps that he ought to say something to Viggo who had saved his life,
but as he could not think of anything which did not seem foolish, he
skulked away unnoticed toward the edge of the forest.

But when Viggo stepped ashore, carrying the unconscious Marcus in his
arms, how the crowd rushed forward to gaze at him, to press his hands,
to call down God's blessing upon him! He had never imagined that he was
such a hero. It was Marcus, not he, to whom their ovation was due. But
poor Marcus--it was well for him that he had fainted from over-exertion;
for otherwise he would have fainted from embarrassment at the honors
which would have been showered upon him.

The West-Siders, marching two abreast, with their bows slung across
their shoulders, escorted their general home, cheering and shouting as
they went. When they were half-way up the hillside, Marcus opened his
eyes, and finding himself so close to his beloved general, blushed
crimson, scarlet, and purple, and all the other shades that an
embarrassed blush is capable of assuming.

"Please, General," he stammered, "don't bother about me."

Viggo had thought of making a speech exalting the heroism of his
faithful follower. But he saw at a glance that his praise would be more
grateful to Marcus, if he received it in private.

When, however, the boys gave him a parting cheer, in front of his
father's mansion, he forgot his resolution, leaped up on the steps, and
lifting the blushing Marcus above his head; called out:

"Three cheers for the bravest boy in Norway!"

BICEPS GRIMLUND'S CHRISTMAS VACATION

I.

The great question which Albert Grimlund was debating was fraught